


Happy to serve

by Siff



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender AU, Breathplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, maybe alittle plot, veeery little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siff/pseuds/Siff
Summary: Gin is a bartender, and Aizen is a regular.One night, things happen.
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Happy to serve

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little silly thing. I'm practicing my porn writing. Enjoy.

Despite looking very mundane, Gin always notices when he enters.

He’s always amongst a group of businessmen that show up once or twice a week, all dressed in expensive suits and shoes that probably cost more than Gin earns in a year. They have their usual table in the corner, and they sit for hours and pays well for the most expensive champagne and sake the bar can offer.

They never yell or make a scene, and always depart with a polite nod.

Gin hates them all. Everything about them makes bile rise in his throat, and he usually leaves them to Rangiku, who has less trouble with people like them. Usually, he’s against sending her to a group of drunk businessmen, but these are not like the usual drunken crowd. They’re very polite and respectful to her.

He still hates them.

But he’s also curious.

He has no idea what they do, what firm they belong to. He only knows they have money, and a lot of it, and doesn’t mind spending it of the finer things in life. They never talk business – as far as Rangiku has told him, and since she’s usually close by the table all night, he takes her word for it – but Gin is sure something is happening at the table. He just doesn’t know what. And despite his curiosity, he isn’t eager to get close to them.

Maybe except for one.

He’s one of the younger ones in the group. Framed glasses, shaggy brown hair that somehow still looks professional, and a kind smile Gin knows is no more real than his own is.

Gin doesn’t know why this one sticks out to him. He’s not anything special. He’s neither the worst looking nor the most handsome of the group. The others don’t treat him special, but they don’t ignore him either. His clothes are no finer or cheaper than the others’. And when they get up, he nods politely to Gin at the bar, and thanks Rangiku for her service before leaving with the rest.

There’s nothing special about him.

Still, Gin notices him.

As soon as the door opens, it’s almost like Gin can _feel_ him enter the bar. He’s so aware of his presence, the guy might as well be a beacon in the night. He does his best to focus on the other customers but apparently falls short.

“So, which one is it?” Rangiku asks as she slides in behind the bar beside him.

“What?”

“Which one?” she says and nods towards the table. Gin looks at the group, sitting in their usual corner and then turns back to the drink he’s mixing.

“Don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Right.” She rolls her eyes and stoops down behind the bar, searching for the right bottle. When she straightens up, he sees its red wine and a fine one at that. “Is it the one with the yellow tie? He’s kinda cute.”

Gin snorts. “He’s old.”

“We’ll all be one day,” she says and opens the bottle. She snatches a tray from the shelf under the bar and stacks the bottle along with a half a dozen glass, balancing it all perfectly in her hand. “Just try not to stare so much, all right.”

She leaves before he can give her a snarky response, and he watches her make her way to the table. The men make room for her so she can put the bottle down, and they thank her politely. As she turns her head to smile at one of them, Gin sees the man with the glasses, looking straight at him.

Gin quickly turns away, swallowing at the sudden dryness in his mouth. His fingers shake as he finishes mixing the drink and brings it to the customer at the other end of the bar, and then he flees into the backroom.

The staff has their own changing room with a bathroom, and he goes to splash some water in his flustered face. As the cold water runs between his still shaking fingers, he wonders if his mind played a trick, or did the man smile at him? Not the usual kind smile. Something else.

Probably just a trick of the light, Gin decides. He tries to rub away the sudden flash of heat he felt with the cold water, but it barely works.

He needs to get a grip. He opens and closes his hands a few times until the shaking subsides. Then he glances in the mirror, making sure he doesn’t look any different than usual. Thankfully he doesn’t.

Still pale with silvery hair, his smile back on his face. Even flustered he barely changes color.

He leaves the changing room.

Rangiku gives him a look as he returns to the bar. He just smiles at her. She frowns, but then shrugs and returns to her customers. Gin is pleased. She might know him better than anyone, but it seems he can still hide things when needed.

The rest of the night, he makes sure to keep his attention away from the group of businessmen.

It helps. He focuses on the rest of the customers and brings them their drinks, and when a group of far less well-behaved men enters around eleven, both he and Rangiku gets busy enough for him to almost forget that smile. Almost.

Thankfully, the drunks leave around one o'clock, apparently already hammered, and a silence falls over the bar so suddenly, Gin could have believed he’d gone deaf. The bar is almost empty now and Gin begins the cleanup, as Rangiku served the last drinks to the usual group.

He’s stacking cases of empty bottles in the alley behind the bar when she pops out her head through the door. “Only a few left. Do you mind if I go?”

“If you wait, I can walk you home,” he offers but she shakes her head with a smile.

“The last bus to my place leaves in five minutes. You’ll have to walk home if you do.”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” she says and blows him a kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

“Send me a text when you get home,” he manages to yell before the door swings shut. He hears her muted answer and sighs.

He gives the stacks of crates a last look before going back inside. It's almost empty. A couple of young women is sitting by a table, giggling over a phone that lights up the otherwise dark corner, and by the bar…

Gin freezes in the door.

It's him.

He’s sitting alone, writing something in a small notebook. He looks very concentrated.

Swallowing, Gin walks over and slips in behind the bar. “Sorry for the wait,” he says and is relieved that he sounds so calm. “Can I get you anything?”

The man looks up at him, and Gin thinks he might have the most intense brown eyes he’s ever seen.

“Can I have a glass of wine, please.”

And the smoothest voice he’s ever heard.

“Red or white?”

“Red, please,” he smiles, and Gin curses himself silently. This isn’t good. It’s very much not good. He’s never been this close to the man, and now he can see him. Really see him. How his glasses fit him perfectly, and how much they seem to hide, along with the hair.

He wonders how he’d look with his hair brushed back, and almost raises his hand to check before catching himself.

_Get a grip, Gin._

He quickly slips on his widest smile. “Right away.”

It would be a relief to turn his back on his man, but he can feel him staring at him. It’s like a burning spot on the back of his neck, and he resists the urge to bring his hand up and touch it. Instead, he focuses on filling the glass.

It's not a cheap wine, but knowing these people, the man is probably expecting it.

Making sure his smile is in place, Gin turns around and places it on the bar. He pushes it towards him by the foot of the glass.

“There you go,” he says, and its only thanks to years of practice that he doesn’t jerk or jump when he feels a warm hand brush his own.

Slender fingers run along Gin’s and then up the stem of the glass. “Thank you,” the man says.

Gin snatches his hand away, not caring how panicked it looks, and quickly turns away. He busies himself with putting away the wine and clean glasses, all the while pretending his heart isn’t beating away in his chest.

He can still feel the warm spot on the back of his neck.

He’s forced to turn around when the two women come to the bar to thank him for the drinks. He bows to them, careful not to look at the man, and they leave, giggling and waving.

The bar is empty now, except for him and the man, who makes no move to leave.

Steeling himself, Gin turns to him and sees the almost empty glass. “Refill?”

“Please,” he says, turning a few pages in his notebook. As Gin reaches for his glass, he looks up at him through his glasses, and Gin can feel a lump form in his throat. For a second, he’s frozen, locked in place by those eyes. The man smiles.

“What’s your name?”

Gin swallow and steps back, reaching for the bottle. “Ichimaru.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Only Ichimaru?”

Funny.

“Gin,” he says. “My name is Ichimaru Gin.”

The man smiles, satisfied. “Aizen Sousuke.”

Aizen. Yeah, he looks like an Aizen, Gin decides and fills the glass. He’s careful to place it far enough away, so he has time to pull back his hand before Aizen can reach for it.

“Have you worked here long?”

“A few months,” Gin says, wondering why he’s asking.

“Did Matsumoto-san get you the job?”

At the mention of Rangiku, Gin can feel his hackle rise. “What if she did?” Aizen shrugs, clearly amused.

“I am a regular here and has been for some time. It was quite the surprise to suddenly see you behind the bar.”

“Didn’t know your kind bothered to notice people like us,” Gin says, weary of how Aizen is looking at him. Studying him.

Aizen's smile widens a bit. “My kind?”

“Rich people,” Gin says, gesturing to Aizen’s expensive suit. He looks a bit surprised.

“Are you sure you’re allowed to talk to me like that?”

Shit. He probably isn’t. Customers are always right or something like that. But something about the look on Aizen’s face, the almost mocking look of surprise, like he’s playing a role on a stage, makes Gin shrug his shoulders carelessly.

“Maybe not.”

“Oh,” says Aizen, smile growing slightly. “What would happen if I told your employer?”

Something in his eyes makes his question, his threat, fall oddly flat. _It’s a game_ , Gin realizes. And he’s almost surprised by the sudden feeling of thrill running through him.

He can play.

“I might get fired,” he says, shrugging slightly.

“Ah,” says Aizen, his pleasant smile like a mask on his face. “You don’t seem very concerned.”

“Should I be?”

“Of course not,” says Aizen and his whole demeanor changes. Suddenly the intense look on his face disappears and the same pleasant, kind smile Gin usually sees him with is back. He leans back slightly in his seat. “Can't imagine anyone would tell on you. Least of all me.”

The sudden change almost throws Gin off, but he’s played this game before. He’s beginning to know what kind of man Aizen is. He can’t help but feel slightly exited. The flash of heat he felt earlier is back, but now as a slow warmth spreading through his body.

He likes games like this.

He bows deeply to Aizen. “Very kind of you.” He glances up through the silver strands of his hair. Aizen is watching him expectantly, waiting for him to make the next move. It's almost too easy. “It seems like I’m in your debt.”

Bingo.

It’s a small change, the barest narrow of eyes, but Gin knows he said the right thing. The kind smile is still on, but the way he looks at Gin is different. Hungry. The mask is cracking.

“So it seems,” says Aizen, and his low voice rolls through Gin, who shudders. He has to straighten up, or the feeling will send him to his knees. He grabs the edge of the bar to steady himself. The heat is running through him in waves and he swallows thickly, aware than Aizen sees it all.

He can’t lose control. Not now. It’s been so long since he played.

He wants to enjoy it, just a bit longer.

In order to gather himself, he grabs a tray and slowly leaves the bar. The table the two women occupied is still covered in empty glasses, and the familiar task of gathering them makes it easier to push the heat away a bit. The darkness of the corner also makes him feel less exposed. He breathes deeply as he prepares himself to return to the bar.

Then he feels a warm touch on his back.

He freezes, a glass still in his hand. He keeps his eyes on the table in front of him as the feeling of someone standing close becomes more intense. The touch on his back moves slowly up to his neck and he shudders against his will.

Warm fingertips grace the bare skin of his neck before moving to his shoulder, and then down his arm.

Aizen steps closer to him, and it feels like a wave of heat pressing up against Gin’s back. He keeps his head down, not daring to move. He fears anything he does might make Aizen think he doesn’t want this.

Does he want this?

The fingers curl around his wrist, sending his pulse into overdrive.

Yeah, he wants this.

Aizen tugs slightly at his wrist, and Gin gets the message. He lets go of the glass, and Aizen immediately flattens his hand to the table, covering it with his own. His skin is like fire against Gin’s, who almost always feels like he’s cold.

He’s not cold now.

Aizen steps closer, pressing his chest against Gin’s back. His other hand touches Gin on the ribs, making him jerk slightly.

“Ticklish?” a deep voice asks close to his ear. Gin huffs out a shaky laugh.

“Hardly.”

Aizen hums. His hand strokes Gin’s side for a moment, before moving slowly to his chest. He must be able to feel Gin’s heartbeat beneath his fingers. It feels like it’s trying to break his ribs.

Warm fingers move up to his collar, touching the sharp bone beneath the skin. Gin waits for him to comment on how skinny he is, but Aizen stays quiet. Instead, his finger trails up to his neck, skimming over his Addams apple and Gin swallows thickly. Slowly, Aizen closes his hand around his throat.

Gin groans and can’t help but thrust his hips back a little, making them settle against Aizen’s front. He gasps as Aizen moves against him, and he can feel every inch of him. Aizen is hard and fitting perfectly against Gin’s ass.

The fingers around his neck force him to tilt his head back. Back until his head rests on Aizen’s shoulder and he feels warm breath runs across his cheek.

“Do you still think you owe me?”

How can he sound so calm? Gin has to force himself not to rut back against him. The feeling of Aizen’s cock against his ass almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. The warm touch and the hand on his neck – It’s all so good.

But despite the heat running through him, making him dizzy, Gin still realizes what Aizen is giving him. A chance to back out. To get free of… whatever this is. Whatever it promises to be. He can say no, and Aizen will leave him alone. He knows it. Aizen will leave with a smile and pretend it never happened.

Gin leans into the touch on his neck. “I’m at your service.”

Aizen makes an approving noise and tilts Gin’s head to the side. He presses his lips against Gin’s, and Gin is lost.

Aizen nudges his lips apart, and despite the awkward angle, he manages to deepen the kiss. Gin falls into it. His knees grow weak as Aizen licks into his mouth, drawing out a moan.

Gin doesn’t know what to do. He’s painfully hard, straining in his trousers, but it’s the feeling of Aizen’s cock against him that makes him squirm. The kiss and the hand on his throat make pulses of heat run through him, and he reached up to cover Aizen’s hand with his own, making sure he won’t let go.

Aizen breaks the kiss, making Gin whine.

“Eager, are we?” chuckles Aizen and strokes Gin’s neck slowly. Shit, Gin feels like he’s sinking. He doesn’t even notice that Aizen has let go of his hand on the table, and instead is circling his waist, pressing them closer together. He’s flush against Aizen, who somehow manages to seem calm as he strokes Gin’s neck with one hand and, at the same time, works his trousers open with the other.

Gin moans as warm fingers sneak under his waistband and curls around his cock.

He jerks at the touch, but Aizen holds him close, pressing their lips together again, and it serves as a distraction as Aizen works Gin’s trousers down, freeing him.

When Aizen draws back, Gin is dizzy from the kiss and the hand stroking him. He swallows, enjoying how the fingers tighten slightly against his neck as he does.

“I don’t think this is the right place to repay a debt,” Aizen mummers, and Gin opens his eyes in near panic. If Aizen stops now…

But he doesn’t. His firm grip on Gin’s cock doesn’t lessen, and he strokes him slowly and oh so good.

“I’ll need more time,” Aizen continues. “Time and…” he trails off and brushes his lips against Gin’s neck. He uses his hand around Gin’s cock to also press him back against his own erection, and Gin thinks he might black out from the overload of sensations.

He’s close, so close. Aizen is stroking him just perfectly, and it’s been so long. And Aizen is twisting his wrist _just like that_.

“Yes…” he whispers, almost panting as he tries to rut against Aizen without disturbing the rhythm around his cock. “Yes, please.”

“Good boy,” says Aizen and tightens his hold on Gin’s throat, cutting off his air. He strokes him faster and Gin strains against the touch, needing more, more, _more,_ and Aizen seems to know, for he tightens his hold and then sinks his teeth into Gin’s neck.

The sudden spark of pain sends him over the edge, and stars explode in Gin’s vision as he comes. Aizen releases his neck at once, and the sudden intake of air throws Gin deeper into a dizzy state, and his knees give out.

Aizen catches him and holds him close as Gin slowly grabs the edge of the table, steadying himself. He breathes rapidly, stars still dancing, and it feels like he will float away if it isn’t for Aizen’s hands. One stroking his arm, the other a firm grip on his neck, grounding him.

Aizen helps him fix his clothes, and then he guides Gin to a chair, which he sinks gratefully into it.

It takes a few minutes for Gin to calm down, and it's only then he realizes that Aizen didn’t come. He still obviously hard, despite it not showing in his expression. He notices Gin looking.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You can repay me later.”

“Could repay you now,” says Gin, his voice a bit hoarse. He wonders if he’ll have marks on his neck tomorrow.

Aizen smiles, dark and luring. He leans down and gently but firmly takes hold of Gin’s chin, making him tilt his head back.

“You’ll get your chance.”

He kisses him, deep and forcefully, and even if Gin could free himself, he wouldn’t. When Aizen draws back, Gin misses his touch.

“Here,” Aizen says and produces a business card from his pocket. He places it on the table. “When you get a night off, call me.” He gives Gin a last kiss and then leaves the bar.

Gin stares at the door, long after Aizen is gone. He feels light, satisfied.

And hungry.

He picks up the card and is somehow not surprised when he only sees a name and a phone number. No firm or anything that indicates what Aizen actually does.

Chuckling, he sticks the card into his pocket and shakenly gets up from the chair. He might have to check the schedule in the office, but he’s pretty sure he has a night off in two days.

Smiling, he picks up the tray and returns to the bar.

**Author's Note:**

> I was about to post this when I realized Aizen never paid for his drinks. Ah, fuck it.
> 
> Also, I apparently always compare their flirting with playing games... huh.


End file.
